Stella
by Clockwork Hobbit
Summary: "Size doesn't matter out here in the black. Nil-grav doesn't mind if you're five four and weigh a hundred ten soaking wet or if you're six four and two forty before breakfast. It's what you do with it that matters."


The good thing about having a war in space, Steve thought as he stepped out of the transport shuttle, was that it didn't matter if you were tiny or had bad lungs. The lack of gravity made physical activity completely different than it was on Earth, and the constant supply of filtered oxygen should work even with the shitty pair of lungs Steve had been gifted with. The world governments were desperate to win the war, so just about anyone could enlist. Ground armies laughed at him, never even gave him a chance to talk, but the enlistment officer at the USSC center had not just listened to him, eyes almost comically wide, but signed his form so quickly that he tore a hole in the paper.

And now here Steve was, fresh out of a round of officer training, with a shiny captain's medallion to go with the honor, ready to meet his new team.

"I can't believe that we're on Stella—the same base as the _Howling Commandos_ call home," a private murmured. "These guys are legendary. Been together for years. Hope we get to meet them before they head out on another one of those top-secret missions they run."

Everyone back home had heard of the Howling Commandos, naturally, although no one actually knew the exact specifications of what they did. All anyone knew for sure was that they ran the most important missions in the military. Steve hadn't realized that he'd be on base with them. It was a little nerve-wracking, if he was honest with himself.

He felt a little self-conscious as he stood among the other men, not because he was the only officer (he had worried over that for a bit, before realizing that he was just as green as the rest of them), but because he stood a good four inches shorter than the next shortest man. He may have revealed himself to be a tactical genius, but he was still skinny.

Two people approached, and the gathered men burst into a flurry of whispers. It was hard to tell who was drawing more attention, the brunette woman who glared at them with flaming eyes, or the man beside her.

"That's the Commandos' NCO," the man next to Steve whispered in awe, but before he could say any more the woman spoke up, crisp British accent cutting through the echoing unloading dock.

"The majority of you are to be my responsibility," she said briskly, hands propped on her hips.

"Sugar, I'll be your responsibility all you want," someone catcalled from the back, and the woman raised her chin.

"Lord help the soul that tries to start anything," the NCO beside her muttered, and she shot him a glare. He raised his hands in surrender at the same time that Steve raised his voice, almost without thinking.

"Show some respect. She outranks you." The shining pins on her lapels clearly marked that she was an agent, not a common rank, but one of the most coveted ones in the USSC. She was probably in charge of the base, Steve realized. "Do you want to get called to court-martial before you even see action?"

The woman ducked her head, but Steve caught the quick flash of a grin. "My name is Agent Carter. I'm the one in charge here, not boys who think they're entitled to any woman they see."

Steve liked her already.

"Most of you will be coming with me for processing, except for Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes here will be taking care of your processing, and meeting your team."

Steve swallowed hard. He hadn't realized that he would be assigned to the Howling Commandos, but that seemed to be what Agent Carter was implying.

No one moved, and Agent Carter clapped her hands, sound cracking through the room. "Let's get a _move on_ , boys. We haven't got all day. In case you haven't heard, there's a war on."

Steve took a hesitant step out of formation and towards Barnes, and that was all it took. No one had wanted to be the first to move, but now that someone was out, they all broke off and followed Agent Carter like a string of ducklings.

Barnes looked Steve up and down critically. "You're Captain Rogers?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "From all I heard about you, you're not what I was expecting."

Steve crossed his arms defensively. "What, you're saying that because I'm short and skinny I can't be any good for the USSC?"

The other man laughed. "Aw, come on, don't take it so hard. It's not a criticism. Heard you got a mind for tactics like no one else, and that's what we need, not someone who's big or whatever. Size doesn't matter out here in the black. Nil-grav doesn't mind if you're five four and weigh a hundred ten soaking wet or if you're six four and two forty before breakfast. It's what you do with it that matters."

Steve found himself grinning. "Thank you, Sergeant Barnes." It was a little formal, seeing as he was the man's CO, but he couldn't help it. He was green, for all that he was a captain, and the—his—NCO was not.

Barnes shook his head. "Barnes is fine. We don't go in for titles—you'll see when you meet the others. We've been through too much together. Our last CO couldn't seem to understand that, but, then again, we got him sent back to Tera after two weeks. It wasn't a fit."

Steve frowned. Tera was the strategy base for the USSC, and he had been sure that they were going to assign him there, until they hadn't. Until they had sent him out here to Stella. He wasn't complaining about the surprise assignment, but he _was_ surprised that the Howling Commandos had the power to send back a CO. He knew, of course, that they were famous, but he hadn't realized that their power extended that far.

* * *

Before he got to meet the team, though, he had to go through processing. They had received a lot of the basics back on Earth, but every base had their own peculiars, and that was what he had to go through.

Barnes watched in sympathy as Steve went through all the necessary paperwork. "Hate paperwork," he commented lowly, pulling a surprised laugh from Steve.

"You're a sergeant—you must have to do a decent amount."

Barnes shrugged. "Not really. We get a shit ton of leeway, actually, and there's only a few vague forms for the CO. Yeah, technically as the NCO I'm supposed to do them, but it's a tradition of ours that the CO is one of us—he gets an officer's tent and all, if he really wants special treatment, but he doesn't get to hide and let us do the dirty work. We've had a few decent ones, leading us into battle and all that, but we get most sent back to Tera because they can't understand how we work. We've never had a _good_ CO, though." Icy blue eyes glared at Steve.

"I don't like bullies, and I never run away from a fight," Steve promised, voice low and earnest. "I got beat up in just about every back alley in all of Brooklyn for it, but I _never_ run away from a fight."

Barnes was nodding, grinning, but he froze when Steve said _Brooklyn_.

"Is there a problem…?" Steve asked cautiously. He had been doing so well getting along with Barnes, he thought, and he really didn't want to ruin that now just because of where he was from.

Before he could start to worry too much, however, a huge grin split Barnes' face. "I'm from Brooklyn too," he explained. "I guess we went to different schools or something—I graduated in '35. You?"

Steve shook his head. "I was homeschooled. Sick too often to go to public school, honestly, and with my piece of shit lungs it was too dangerous. Finished up in '36, though—makes you about a year older."

"Oh, this is great. Seems like this will go wonderfully." Barnes seemed thrilled. "I think you might be just the man we need."

* * *

The room Barnes led Steve to next was loud and brightly lit. One of the first things Steve noticed was the bar in one corner. Barnes noticed him looking, and laughed. "One of the perks of being famous, see. It doesn't interfere with our work, so they don't care."

The five men crowded around the table looked over, calling out to Barnes jovially. He grinned, waving, and dragged Steve over.

"Gentlemen, this is our new CO, Captain Steve Rogers."

The men stayed quiet, sizing Steve up. He wanted to squirm under their analytical gazes, but knew that would make him seem weak, something that his body already held against him, so he stood perfectly still at parade rest, feet spread and hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"Sarge?" one of the men asked, waiting for Barnes' opinion.

"I think he'll be a good fit," Barnes said with a shrug. "His exact words were, what, 'I don't like bullies and I never run away from a fight'? He has the potential to be exactly what we need, the good CO we've been waiting for."

If they had met back on Earth, in a different situation, Steve would have likely started running his hot mouth and complaining that he was standing right there. As it was, however, he kept standing there and let himself be examined.

"He's skinny," one of the men muttered, and Steve felt himself flush. They laughed, though not unkindly.

"It doesn't matter," a different voice replied. "Long as he knows what he's doing and does right by us, he can be a stick for all I care."

"Right," Barnes said, falling gracefully into the empty chair on the left of the table and gesturing for Steve to take his seat at the head. "Introductions. Start with me, end with the Cap. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, sniper."

"Timothy Dugan, transport specialist."

"Gabriel Jones," introduced the man who had called Steve skinny. "Communications specialist."

"Jacques Dernier. Démolitions." His accent was thick, but Steve didn't question it.

The next man also had an accent, though it was different. "James Falsworth. Tactics."

"I'm your medic," the man next to Steve told him. "James Morita."

Steve shook his head. "How many James can we have on one team?"

Barnes laughed. "We sort of have three, sort of have none. Technically, yeah, you have three guys named James, but, really, you have a Jim, a Monty, and a Bucky."

Steve arched an eyebrow. "How did— Never mind. That leaves me. Steve Rogers, operations command, complete greenie, and slightly star struck kid from Brooklyn."

The men laughed, and, that easily, the ice was broken among them.

* * *

It was slightly overwhelming, adjusting to life on Stella, but Steve had the help of his Commandos, all of whom were amazing to work with. The homesickness was a little hard (he'd been away from home proper for months at training, but, he realized one day, he was missing _Earth_ , not necessarily home), but Barnes drew out the broad Brooklyn accent he usually repressed in order to make Steve laugh.

It was nice, finding somewhere he fit in. For as much as he missed Earth, he had never fit in there. It wasn't a place for someone as short and skinny and sickly as he was. Aside from that one comment from Jones at the beginning, though, the Commandos never commented on his size, a fact for which Steve was more than grateful. He was just one of the guys. Barnes had been right—he was a good fit for them. Now they just had to wait, see how he would fare as a CO. He wasn't yet tested by fire.

* * *

The chance to test Steve on an actual mission, not just a simulation, came sooner than any of them were expecting. About a week and a half after Steve had arrived on Stella, he was handed a folder by Agent Carter. "Assignment for you and your boys," she said briskly, glancing at the buzzing com on her wrist. "Best of luck, Captain."

Before Steve could say anything, she had moved on to the next emergency, so he did the same.

When he entered the Commandos' common room and held up the folder, the guys groaned. "Better suit up," Steve said, raising his chin to try and hide his fear. "We've got a job to do."

* * *

 **Like the tags said, I based this loosely (very loosely...) off Ender's Game. The movie was on last night, and I was reminded of how much I absolutely love that book.**

 **The USSC stands for United States Space Corps, a suggestion from a member of my writers group when I said I needed a better name than "space army."**

 **The names of the bases come from Latin. Terra (changed to Tara in the fic) is Latin for Earth, Stella for Star. I wanted to sort of show the divide between the officers and the soldiers, the ones who stay safe behind their own lines and the ones who put themselves out there. That being said, I'm not implying that all officers in real armies do this; I really have no idea. Sure, the USSC is United States, but it's not affiliated with any branch of the military. It's its own military. Sure, it's sort of based off the US Army, but I wanted to have absolute control and not have to stick with pre-established Army things.**

 **The names and titles of the Commandos come from something I found online . I'm not sure how accurate it is to what is actually given in the canon, I didn't do that much research, but I've seen it before and liked its specificity.**


End file.
